


Tease

by stars_inthe_sky



Series: Motions [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, First Time, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Mission, Safe Sane and Consensual, Seduction, Sex, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_inthe_sky/pseuds/stars_inthe_sky
Summary: There’s only one bed, and Natasha is not about to let that opportunity pass by.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [charliechaplin2blr](http://charliechaplin2blr.tumblr.com/) prompted: "MCU BuckyNat. Natasha has no idea Bucky has his memories of them back. They're on a mission together and they're holed up in a tiny safehouse, Steve having been separated from them. There's one bed, and they agree to share. It's torture for him, and Natasha, who's bored, decides to flirt for fun. Things get serious."

“They’re not coming, are they?” Natasha asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “Apparently someone—I’m choosing to blame Sam—misremembered the plan and went to the shitty motel thirty miles _north_ of the site instead of south, where we are. And they—again, I blame Sam—decided they would just crash there rather than drive the hour here.”

Natasha decides to ignore the possibility that Wanda might’ve done anything on purpose. She has the opening she needs now, and she has never been one to miss an opportunity, especially not one she’s been waiting for this long. “Just as well, what with this being the last available room they had at this place.” That _had_ actually been good luck.

“Yeah…” Bucky stands up from the corner where he’d been crouched with his charging cell phone and surveyed the space. “Well, whatever, I can crash on the floor. I’ve had worse.”

She rolls her eyes. “Barnes, it’s a queen-sized bed; we’re both adults who can kill the other in their sleep if anyone steals the covers. It’s fine.”

“If you say so,” he shrugs. “At least we ended up in the car with the overnight stuff.” He makes a point of not looking at her as he speaks, even though she’s perched on the bed next to the duffel bag in question. Instead, he rifles through it, withdrawing sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, as well as a Dopp kit. Still in his full tac suit and boots, he walks it all straight into the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him.

Natasha sighs and digs her own overnight clothes out, opting to change in the center of the room. She strips off her gauntlets, guns, and clothing, pausing to fold and stash everything while wearing nothing but black panties, just in case. He doesn’t emerge, though; judging from the sounds in the bathroom, he’s still changing, too. Time to reconfigure the plan.

She dons her loose gray tank top, its well-worn fabric thin enough to leave very little to the imagination, though she pinches each nipple a couple of times to perk them up, just in case. Her shorts, a deep shade of green that flatters her skin tone, aren’t quite so revealing, but she rolls the waistband over a couple of times, tightening the soft cotton around the curve of her ass. Checking herself out in the mirror next to the television, she decides to add a loose bun to complete the look, letting a few strands of hair fall out strategically, then nods approvingly at her reflection.

With that, Natasha raps on the bathroom door and grabs her own toiletries while Bucky lets her in. He maneuvers around her in the small space to kick a tangled pile of clothing out into the room, chucking his shoes after it. She stands at the sink, taking her time with her skin care, and when he joins her, she follows his lead—without appearing to, of course—and begins brushing her teeth.

For a good minute, they stand side-by-side, not touching, just brushing—albeit perhaps with a bit more vigor than strictly necessary. Even in this situation, as on their earlier mission, they’re in tight sync, working at the same pace without so much as bumping elbows. She catches his eyes in the mirror; his gaze jerks up from her chest and then shifts to his own hands, then back up to meet her stare. His expression is neutral, as if daring her to demand otherwise.

Natasha tries to smile seductively, a signature move that rarely fails to work, but what she manages around her thick blue toothbrush and a mouthful of suds is less seductive and more warmly inviting. His eyes widen so slightly at that that she thinks it might have been a trick of the light, but he smiles back, just a bit. Her stomach does a little flutter.

Bucky bends over to spit a few seconds before she does and offers her a plastic cup of tap water to rinse with when she’s done. Natasha accepts it with another smile, small but genuine, not ready to break the comfortable silence quite yet.

She slips into bed while he bolts the door and closes the curtain, only to discover when he turns off the lights that the streetlamps in the parking lot shine around the heavy drapes enough to leave the room dimly lit.

“We’ll complain about it in the morning, Barnes,” Natasha insists as his shoulders slump in tired defeat. “Bed. Now.”

Bucky slides onto his side of the bed without protest, and his whole body stiffens where it comes into contact with hers, which she ensures includes several points from shoulders to knees.

“Do you…mind? I could use a little more room over here.”

Without turning over to face him, she says, “I’m, like, right at the edge of the bed.”

“That can’t possibly be—”

Instead of finishing his sentence, Bucky shifts upward to look at her positioning; she anticipates his movement just enough to roll onto her back, landing in between his arms so he’s hovering over her.

“This is the middle of the bed, Romanoff.”

“Well,” she says, sitting up just enough to give him a look at the low neckline of her shirt. Her nipples are plenty perky on their own by now. “What do you want to do about _that_?”

He stares at her for a long moment, several expressions passing over her face too quickly for analysis. Natasha waits, keeping still. Just when she’s almost sure he’s going to mutter something incoherent and move to the floor, Bucky lowers his body onto hers and kisses so hard that her vision goes blurry.

She leans into him, responding in kind, hands scrabbling for a place in his hair, around his neck, farther and farther down his back. At that, he does make an incoherent sort of noise, and she tugs gently on his lower lip with her teeth, leading him to kiss her again, his body moving against hers with no shortage of suggestion.

When one of his hands snakes under her shirt toward her breasts, Natasha lifts both arms above her head, giving him both more room to explore and the opportunity to remove her shirt. He does both, gently bringing her wrists down against her sides as his mouth shifts to her now-bare neck and collarbone.

Half-consciously—his mouth on her skin is like lit fireworks, and when he moves down to her breasts, her vision goes blurry again—she taps his forearm, just to see.

He freezes above her, tongue curled around a nipple. “Did you want me to—”

“You _asshole_ ,” she laughs, arching her back to make what she wants quite clear. Bucky resumes his attention to her chest, even as she continues, “You _do_ remember.”

He laughs, too, quiet but hearty, and pauses again to sit up partway and discard his shirt. She raises a questioning eyebrow, and he admits, “For a while now. I didn’t know if I should say—or when—I mean, with all the shooting and near-strangulation…I was trying to be respectful. Or something.”

Natasha snorts and holds her hands up, one hovering above the other. “Water, bridge. Lose the pants and we’ll deal with the rest after you fuck me senseless.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grins, finally throwing the bedspread aside as he yanks off his sweats and pulls her shorts off, too. “Any other orders?” Before she can answer, he maneuvers two fingers between her legs, and she doesn’t bother trying to form words as her fingers dig into the mattress.

“ _Chyort voz'mi, Natalia_ ,” he groans, skimming his lips down her stomach. “I _missed_ you.”

When he switches out his fingers for his mouth, Natasha actually yelps, a high-pitched noise she’s sure hasn’t made in a long time. “Then don’t— _ahh_ —make me—try—seducing you—with a fucking—toothbrush!”

His voice vibrates through her. “Didn’t want to assume you wanted—”

“I want, I want—God, _lyubimyi_ —do you—?”

Bucky slides back up, wiping his mouth quickly on the top sheet before kissing her again. She lifts her hands, one to cup his ass and the other to investigate how she can catch him up to her near-blinding state of arousal, or if she even needs to. He stops her, moving her hand around to join the other one. “I swear, if you touch me, I will lose it, and _I_ want—”

She’s about to tell him to stop talking and _take_ , but he’s a step ahead, shoving himself into her with evident relief and excitement mingling into an expression of pure bliss on his face. Natasha’s sigh as he sinks in turns to a deep moan, and, when Bucky begins thrusting, she tightens her legs around his backside, pressing him in deeper while tangling her hands in his hair.

The moaning becomes a staccato series of gasps interspersed with cries of “James!” before devolving into her simply muttering, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over. Bucky remains silent other than a sharp breath with each thrust, but they hit climax near-simultaneously, and he cries out—softly, but his exclamation extends into an exuberant groan of relief as their rhythm slows into completion.

He collapses on top of her, a thin layer of sweat between them, his face buried in the rumpled sheet next to her head. They stay like that for nearly a minute, catching their breaths, before they both start laughing.

Bucky props himself up on his elbows so he can look at her. “I’m thinking I was a total idiot for not saying anything before. What are _you_ laughing at?”

Natasha giggles helplessly. “Well, that, and—I think now this sort of counts as Sam’s fault, too.” He tries to resist guffawing at that for about half a second and then gives up, falling back against her, their bodies shaking in time with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2016 [Buckynat Smutathon](http://fuckyeahbuckynatasha.tumblr.com/tagged/buckynat-smutathon).
> 
> The arm tap is a reference to Natasha's actions during fight scenes in both Age of Ultron and Civil War, described [here](http://supernutellastuff.tumblr.com/post/144001416087/some-thoughts-on-the-you-could-at-least-recognise).
> 
> Special thanks to those rare artists whose depictions of Bucky on top were quite helpful: [wikiaddicted723](http://wikiaddicted723.tumblr.com/post/147633561295), [milady666](http://milady666.deviantart.com/art/Our-past-451345415), and [elithien](http://elithien.tumblr.com/post/150384909726/elithien-how-to-antagonise-your-boyfriend-by).


End file.
